In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

At five we repaired to the house of the “Serrum-u-dowlet.” We found him sitting with his brother in a large talár, or archway, one side of which was open to the air. The whole room was decorated in the strangest taste; there were the usual mirrors and florid mural paintings; these in this case were life-size full-length portraits of posture dancers and dancing girls, and were in ancient costumes, having been painted fifty years ago. The takhjahs in the walls were filled with chromo-lithographs in very dubious taste; several odd chandeliers hung at various heights as ornaments, some twenty pair of old carriage-lamps were stuck into staples in the walls, and as many small cages stood about, each containing a bulbul, or nightingale. What with the noise these birds made, and the splashing of a fountain which played furiously in a basin of yellow Yezd marble in the centre, it was difficult to catch what was said. Pipes were brought, and a long desultory conversation ensued, in the course of which our host’s guns, dogs, and miscellaneous property were exhibited and duly admired.

The noise was deafening, and directly we had walked round the garden a band of musicians, some twenty strong, made night hideous with their strains and singing. Wine was now produced, and freely partaken of by both brothers, and trays of sweetmeats were handed round and afterwards placed on the ground around us. Spirits, in the form of arrack, the strong coarse spirit of the country, were pressed on us, but we declined. Our host and his brother, however, drank it like water.

On a whispered order being given to the servants four Susmani girls and a buffoon now appeared. These commenced a kind of posture dance, the buffoon singing and making remarks, which produced a good deal of laughter from the host and his brother, but were unintelligible to me, and simply disgusting, as Pierson told me, who could understand.

The girls were pretty in a way, brunettes with large eyes; their faces were much painted, and they were fine girls; their ages were from twelve to seventeen. Their dance had no variety, they spun round, the hands high in air, while the fingers were snapped with a loud report. A very free exhibition of considerably developed charms took place. Every now and then the dancer would make what we call a cheese; then, standing with the feet motionless, the body was contorted and wriggled, each muscle being made to quiver, and the head being bent back till it almost touched the ground; the fingers being snapped in time to the music; or tiny cymbals, some inch in diameter, were clashed between the forefinger and thumb of each hand. The musicians, who played continuously, kept up a sort of loud chant the whole time. The girls now showed some skill as equilibrists, balancing full glasses, lighted candles, etc., and an exhibition of posturing was gone through. They stood on their heads and walked on their hands; they then danced a scarf-dance.

FEMALE DANCERS AND EQUILIBRISTS.

(From a Native Drawing.)

We had not noticed that the buffoon had retired, but he now re-entered, disguised in a remarkable manner. He seemed a figure some four feet high, with a face huge and like a full moon. This was, in fact, carefully painted on his bare abdomen, the whole surmounted by a gigantic turban. He had constructed a pair of false arms, and, with a boy’s coat and large girdle, he presented the effect of a dwarf with a huge round fat face; his head, chest, and arms were hidden in the enormous white turban. The face represented was one of intense and dismal stupidity, and his whole appearance was most ludicrous; in fact, it was only on afterwards seeing the man disrobe, that we made out how it was done.

He danced in and out among the girls, who stood in a row snapping their fingers and posturing: but what was our astonishment when we saw the dismally stupid face expand into a grin, which became at length a laughing mask; it resumed its dismal stupidity—it grinned—it laughed. The musicians played and shouted their chant more and more loudly, and the face of the figure assumed the most ludicrous contortions. We all were unable to restrain our laughter, and the triumphant buffoon retired well rewarded by the Serrum-u-dowlet. The four dancers now became rather too personal in their attentions, and begged for coin. We gave them a few kerans, but were glad when they retired on dinner being announced. We both pronounced them monotonous and uninteresting.

After a heavy Persian dinner—much such a one as we had at Merand—we, with some trouble, got away at eleven P.M. Our hosts seemed inclined to make a very wet night of it; in fact, their frequent acceptance of cupfuls of raw spirits from the hands of the dancers had made them see things generally in a rosy light. They wept when we left!